


warm me up and breathe me

by ohmytheon



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, Smut, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:49:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: They don't get many of these moments together, but when they do, it feels like Roy can breathe again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: things you said with no space between us + Royai = an excuse for some really vague smut writing. Is there a timeline for this? Uh, I'm going to say post-Promised Day.

He tore into her uniform like it was standing between him and air after being under water for too long. And maybe it was.

Some days it felt like he couldn’t breathe until he was touching her, his fingertips brushing against her hot skin, his lips brushing against her neck, his body pressed against hers. Only then, only when he could feel her heart beat, when her mouth warmed him, when her hands guided him, did he feel like he could take a deep breath and sigh. He was drowning one second and then he was breathing her in, taking his fill of her to last him before he went under again.

Who knew how long it would be until the next time he could come up for air?

He needed her. It was a maddening sort of need, one that filled him to the brim some days but left him empty and cold on most. He couldn’t have her – wasn’t supposed to have her – which made someone as insatiable and demanding as him simmer with desire even more. He had always wanted more, ever since he was a child. Some called it ambition; others called it greed. He was strong enough to admit that it was both. Sometimes he wanted too much. He didn’t feel guilty over it, except when it came to her.

He worried that he asked too much of her – that he wanted too much – that he took too much when he couldn’t give enough in return. She deserved more than this. He _wanted_ to give her more than this. The world, if she asked it – he would give her anything – but she never asked anything more of him than what he had to offer. It wasn’t enough.

Trysts in the dark, fleeting looks in the open, brief touches that sent flames shooting through his fingertips. They had more now than before, moments here and there that seemed too good to be true and not good enough, moments they coveted and stole. He hoarded the memory of those moments like a dragon would his gold. He desperately needed more. A time, a touch, a night that pulled them together until they were forced to push apart and he was sated, but only for so long.

When they finally did have a moment together, wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s knowing and desire, he was relentless. There was always a voice in the back of his mind, warning him, encouraging him, telling him, _Slow – you must go slower, savor this, enjoy this, remember this,_ but he couldn’t help himself. He had been patient for so long, for years, and he was wound up like a clock running out of time. _Now,_ the word burned through his heart; he had to have her now. He was tired of being patient. He was tired of never being enough.

Some nights, like tonight, he didn’t even bother with the entire uniform, just what he could rid her of the easiest to gain access. The lamp on his desk in his home office swayed precariously as he ground his hips into hers, pressing her into the wood. His fingers slid over the exposed skin of her stomach, sliding around her back, dancing under the edges of the transmutation circle marking her, as he mouth moved against her chest until she was gasping and clinging to him as desperately as he felt. He let her move against him, biting through the pain of how much he wanted her, and groaned deep in his chest when tiny, vulnerable, knee-buckling whimpers began to tumble out of her mouth.

The second she took in a deep, gasping breath, he was on her again, fumbling with her belt. He couldn’t wait any longer. It had been almost two months. Funny how he’d been able to withstand years of not having her before and now he felt like digging his nails into his palms after a week. He was messy with his wanting, every touch sending his intent through her, and growled against her skin as he struggled with the last bit of their once carefully maintained defense keeping them apart.

“I need you,” he panted into the crook of her neck, next to nothing between them.

One hand threading through his dark hair, the other sliding down to his wrist. _I know._ She didn’t need to speak and in fact rarely did so during these moments. Her words came loud and clear through her touches, whether they were feather light, nails scraping down his back, soothing rubs, or bruise-pressing grips.

His breath turned ragged and his head fell back when she moved her hand down to touch him and he jerked against her, into her, wanting more. “Riza–”

She smiled shyly as she pressed her lips against his, a smile he found impossibly tantalizing since the first time he coaxed it out of her when he said her name after so long of hoarding it in his mind only. _Breathe,_ the kiss said, and he did, stilling himself, forcing himself to halt his manic desire. She kissed him again and he breathed her in and, yes, this was what he needed, not just wanted. He smiled in return.

They didn’t have long – they never did – but he would take whatever time with her that he could have. He would breathe. He would savor her now for when he could not after. He could be good. This would be enough for now until it wasn’t.


End file.
